


Army dreamers

by MikeSierra



Category: Team Fortress 2
Genre: Dorks in Love, Gender Dysphoria, M/M, trans!soldier
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-03-24
Updated: 2020-03-24
Packaged: 2021-02-28 19:40:46
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,093
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23302567
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MikeSierra/pseuds/MikeSierra
Summary: Years before they were bound to find each other again in Teufort, Dell Conagher and Jane Doe meet for the very first time while serving on board of the same warship.Jane as enfantry, Dell as the military engineer of the ship's engine room.(A short story of wholesome Dell supporting Jane Doe in becoming his true self.)
Relationships: BLU Engineer/RED Soldier, Engineer/Soldier (Team Fortress 2)
Kudos: 34





	Army dreamers

It has never been that Dell didn't like war. Or didn't like going to war. Or even worse, he _feared_ it.

In fact, he has been on the field - even if just for a few months. When he had lost an hand while dismantling a mortar, they gave him a mannequin prototype hand that was supposed to roughly replace his hand.  
It didn't. But from then on, he wasn't deemed suitable for battle anymore, and so he had been reassigned as chief machinery technician of a warship.

Oh, but this was better - much better.  
He was damn good with engines.  
Now, he was turning an age that would be most suited with having children, instead of having childlike dreams. Despite all his good heart, helping in the battlefield often felt like emptying the sea with a spoon. On the other hand, working in a warship, in time of relative peace - that new environment was resourceful. He could actually strive to build something good, that would have lasted in time and helped a lot of people. He was sure of that.  
In the year he'd been on board, he managed to renovate the whole engine room with better materials, actually working modern technology. His own implanted hand improved so much that, wearing his work gloves, he barely noticed the differences in movement between the two hands.

He didn't mind working alone down in the engine room.  
Between his record player (shamelessly blasting country music that echoed through the metal walls) and the mess hall where he met the other soldiers for a chat and sometimes, even to play his guitar - he didn't really feel alone during the day. He found time for companionship, and the silence that concentration requires during his long shifts.

As they were docked and preparing for the new expedition, Dell had been notified that, due to the sharp increase in personnel onboard, all permanent staff had to eat at their respective posts, while the mess hall would have been reserved for the new battalion of privates, hundreds at their very first operative experience after graduating the military academy.  
Dell welcomed the news as positive: that meant more time for his work downstairs, he could have played a little more the guitar and besides, the ship would have greeted new lives on her.  
That was good news.

Turns out he didn't have to wait long for his first encounter with the newcomers.

_____________________________________________________________________________________________

  


" **Sir, this is your breakfast!** "

A voice boomed at his back.  
Dell Conagher raised his head up from in between his arms, where it had been uncomfortably laid to rest since the night before where he accidentally fell asleep while working on some machinery's blueprints. As he's been doing for the third night in a row, but pointing that out would be neither here nor there.  
The private really did have the voice of a drill sergeant. If his intention was to wake him up, he thought, he was damn good as an alarm clock.  
He turned to the private and, with a smile and a mumbling of thanks, took the tray he was being offered and placed it over the blueprints.  
Breakfast consisted of a cup of black coffee and a couple of sandwiches, as always. He made a mental note to later thank the mess lady for remembering his tastes.

"...Feels like a five-star hotel now, eh? Breakfast served an' everything."

He grinned, raising his eyes to the young private. And boy, was he young! His cheeks looked like they couldn't grow a hair if they wanted to. He was barely as tall as Dell was, and that meant - not very tall. Moreover, a bowl of straight blondish hair, neatly tucked in his patrol cap, helped in making the private look like an teenager.  
But he had to be at least 23, right? After the academy...  
Dell took the first bite of the sandwich, casually turning in his stool to face the private. After all, a bit of casual chat wouldn't hurt, and maybe the boy would loosen up a bit. The military engineer was indeed a superior to him, but he had never cared much for military formalities.  
After a few moments chewing, Dell pointed at his head.

"Ain't your hair a little long, boy? Ya look like a Beatle."

The private raised his eyebrows, diverting his stare from the fixed and indefinite spot in front of himself that allowed him to stand in attention, straight as an arrow with all his body. 

"This is the shorter they'll let me keep, sir!"

The engineer must have seemed very confused, because the private felt the need to explain himself further.

"It's private Jane Doe, sir."

"Oh, Jane I see! I'm sorry!"

Of course he found it a strange haircut. That was a female's bowl cut.  
Dell wished a hole would appear in the floor of the ship, so he'd sink straight in the ocean.

"It's... just private Doe, sir." A complying shade in the voice of the private.

"Aight, private..." he put emphasis on the rank, the embarrassment of confusing the private for a man, still lingering in his voice.  
He stood up, a wide smile nevertheless.  
They really were the same height after all. Dell had learned not to care.  
For a moment they stared at each other, before Dell actually continued his sentence - an hand scratching lightly his nape.

"...Thanks for bringing my meal, Doe.  
Again, I'm sorry for before. I honestly thought… Y'all look alike when you're this young. Soldiers." He shrugged.

"No offense taken, sir! As you said, I am first and foremost a soldier.  
And I am 25!"  
The private held his chin up in a proud expression, but something resembling a small smile appeared on his thin lips.  
Somehow, somewhere in that simple sentence, Dell recognised the same overpowering willingness to do good that a few years ago inhabited his own thoughts.  
Hell, he liked the private.

"No need to call me 'sir'. Not every time, at least." he was practically laughing - not of the private, but just because he had never felt like a 'sir'. 'Buddy', 'pardner' were choices more apt, in his opinion.

"Roger, ...sir." The private frowned as soon as he stopped talking, bringing an hand to his chin.

Dell tried not to laugh again, patting his shoulder.

"I'll leave you now. I'm sure you have other tasks to carry out, private Doe.  
Just know that you're always welcome down here in the engine room, mealtime or not."

They exchanged a smile, and the private excused himself.


End file.
